


Tell Me to Leave

by pumpkincat77



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25044529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pumpkincat77/pseuds/pumpkincat77
Summary: When confronted with a crying Draco and a bizarrely supportive Moaning Myrtle, Harry is a little less trigger-happy, Draco fails at casting the Cruciatus Curse, and everything changes.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 8
Kudos: 50





	1. Chapter 1

Harry peered into the boys’ bathroom and saw the unlikely pairing of a crying Malfoy hunched over the sink and a dry-faced Moaning Myrtle hovering over him. The Marauder’s Map had shown the two together but seeing them together in their respectively uncharacteristic states of distress was even more surreal.

“Don’t cry,” said Myrtle in a surprisingly comforting voice. She reached out a translucent hand to rest on Malfoy’s shoulder. He jumped a little, and Harry winced at the thought of feeling an ice cold hand grab onto one’s shoulder. “It’ll be alright, we can figure this out together.”

“I can’t do it,” whispered Malfoy, clutching the basin with a white-knuckled grip. He drew in a shuddering breath. “I’ll fail. I’ve never been good enough. He’ll kill us. I can’t.”

Malfoy looked up, and his bloodshot eyes met Harry’s in the mirror. He immediately spun around and hexed Harry who dodged and drew his wand. They exchanged several spells, none hitting the other but destroying the bathroom quite thoroughly. Myrtle shouted at them to stop, trying to get in the crossfire, but the spells went straight through her with no effect.

“Crucio!” yelled Malfoy, his face twisted with fury and desperation.

Myrtle squealed and disappeared through a wall. Harry threw up a shield charm, knowing it would do nothing to stop the curse, but all that happened was a small fizzle of violet light. Malfoy furrowed his brow at his wand.

“Crucio,” said Malfoy again, uncertainly. This time, nothing happened at all.

“You have to mean it,” said Harry helpfully. He remembered what Bellatrix Lestrange had told him the year before in the Department of Mysteries after his own rather weak attempt. Malfoy was looking at him weirdly, so he added, “Though I’d say it’s a good thing you don’t hate me so much that you really wish me undying pain and suffering.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so sure about that,” he said as he examined his wand again. Harry heard him mutter something along the lines of useless unicorns and Dark Magic.

“What?” said Harry.

Malfoy rolled his eyes again. “What do you want?” he said aggressively, though he lowered his wand.

“I heard someone crying and wanted to see if they were okay,” said Harry, lying through his teeth. He was absolutely terrible at comforting people but he was at least sure confessing to stalking the other would not be conducive to the situation at hand. _Not stalking, investigating_ , he reminded himself.

“Of course, precious Potter wants to play the hero,” said Malfoy, throwing his wand back in his pocket with a snort. “But there’s no damsel in distress here for you to save. Fuck off.”

Harry reached out and grabbed Malfoy’s left wrist as he tried to shove his way past Harry.

“Get your filthy hands off of me,” snapped Malfoy. He pulled hard against Harry’s grip but Harry refused to let go.

“Let me see your left arm,” insisted Harry. He needed to know whether Malfoy was a Death Eater, and he needed to know now.

Malfoy snarled at him and his hand went for his wand, but Harry was quicker. He pushed Malfoy’s sleeve up and saw pale, unblemished skin. No Mark.

Malfoy’s jaw clenched. “You can let go of me now,” he said very coldly, and Harry realized he was still holding Malfoy’s wrist.

As soon as he was released, Malfoy straightened his sleeve and, with one last disdainful look at Harry, swept off. Harry sighed and turned around to see Myrtle’s very wide eyes staring back at him.

After wasting some time (untruthfully) convincing Myrtle that he and Malfoy would no longer fight and even more time (very much truthfully) convincing Myrtle that he was not interested in Malfoy like _that_ (“But why were you holding his hand for so long?” “I was not holding his hand!”), Harry went to find his two best friends for dinner.

“You will never believe what happened with Malfoy,” said Harry as he swung his legs over the bench next to Ron.

Ron and Hermione did not look very excited to hear his news.

“Did he finally put strawberry jam on his toast instead of raspberry jam?” asked Hermione dryly.

A few months ago, Harry had realized that every morning without fail, Malfoy only went for raspberry jam and would even go as far as walking over to the Ravenclaw table if there was none left for the Slytherins. He had watched for weeks, trying to figure out whether there was a secret code he was missing, before giving it up. But really, who likes raspberry jam more than strawberry jam?

Harry glared at her as Ron laughed. “No, this is serious. Listen.” After checking to make sure no one was listening, he quietly told them what had happened.

“He used the Cruciatus?” said Ron loudly.

“Shhh!” hissed Harry, glancing around to see if anyone heard. Luckily, the Great Hall was as full of talking and laughter as usual.

Hermione’s eyes were very round. “I can’t believe he used an Unforgivable!” she said. “He should be expelled from Hogwarts at the very least.”

“But he was really upset. He was in _tears_ ,” said Harry again, since Ron and Hermione apparently missed that point the first time around. For some reason, that fact bothered him very much. He took an unenthusiastic bite of chicken pie.

“Unforgivables are a one-way ticket to Azkaban, Harry!” cried Hermione, and Harry quickly shushed her. “He can't get away with this,” she continued in a lower voice, but no less vehement. “You have to tell Professor Dumbledore.”

“Definitely not,” said Harry firmly. “Besides, in case you’ve forgotten, he’s not the only one who has cast the Cruciatus curse.”

He was met with blank looks.

“I have too! So if Draco’s going to be locked up for this, so should I,” said Harry.

“Since when do you call him Draco?” said Ron, repulsed.

Don’t even joke about that,” said Hermione, alarmed.

Harry paused. “I forgot to tell you about that last year, didn’t I?” He filled them in on what had happened with Bellatrix Lestrange.

“Harry!” Hermione went into a lecture about controlling your emotions and not using spells that could end up with him locked up for life. When she started to describe ancient meditation techniques proven to help calm boiling rage, Harry decided to cut her off.

“So Malfoy’s not a Death Eater, but he’s up to something. Just like I told you two all along,” said Harry pointedly. His two friends rolled their eyes in tandem. “He needs help. We have to help him.”

Harry couldn’t sleep that night. All he could think about was what was going on with Malfoy. He wasn’t a Death Eater but Harry would eat his sock if Voldemort wasn’t somehow involved. But what would Voldemort trust a sixteen-year-old to do?

The only things Malfoy was good at were brewing potions, playing Quidditch, and being a pretentious arse. Voldemort was unlikely to be interested in the last two, and surely he would ask Snape before Malfoy for anything Potions related.

Harry sat upright with a huff of frustration. He put on his glasses, and rummaged for the Marauder’s Map below his bed. Lighting his wand, he searched for Malfoy’s dot and found him not in the Slytherin dorms but heading up the fifth floor staircase.

Harry grabbed his Invisibility Cloak and sneaked past his snoring roommates out to the common room. If he hurried, he could beat Malfoy to the Room of Requirement and maybe see what he’s up to.

Sure enough, Harry was standing next to the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy when Malfoy came into view. The Slytherin took a few steps, hesitated, and tapped his nose with his wand. Malfoy sniffed the air and looked straight at Harry.

“I know you’re there, Potter,” said Malfoy.

Harry checked to make sure every part of him was covered by the Invisibility Cloak, and held very still.

“Would you just come out from under your Invisibility Cloak?” said Malfoy, crossing his arms. “I would prefer to see you while discussing why you insist on following me around.”

Harry gave up and took off the Cloak. “How did you know?” he asked, draping it over one arm.

Malfoy stared at Harry’s left hand floating in the air next to his red pajama bottoms covered in golden Snitches. It did look a little strange, but it was nothing compared to the time Ron used the Cloak as a makeshift blanket one night and appeared to have lost his legs.

“I saw you had an Invisibility Cloak on the train coming to school. Invisibility Cloaks hide you from sight but does nothing for the other senses, and to no one’s surprise at all, you are not clever enough to mask your smell.”

“You could smell me?” said Harry, slightly disturbed.

Malfoy flushed a delicate pink, visible even in the dark corridor. “Getting back to the issue, would you quit following me around?”

“I want to know what you were talking about earlier,” said Harry. He took a step closer to Malfoy, who stepped back looking alarmed. “It sounded like you need help.”

“You need to get your ears fixed,” snapped Malfoy.

“Does it have something to do with Voldemort?”

Malfoy winced. “Shut up.”

“Are you in danger?” Malfoy’s jaw clenched, and Harry said, “You should talk to Dumbledore. He can help you.”

“The only way Dumbledore could help me is if he choked to death on his toast tomorrow morning,” said Malfoy. “And if you want to help me, make that happen. In the meantime, leave me alone or I’ll hex you.”

“That’s not funny,” yelled Harry as Malfoy walked away. Harry took out the Marauder’s Map as soon as he was out of sight and watched Malfoy’s dot meander back to the Slytherin dorms before heading back to bed.

“But what do you think he meant by that?” said Harry as he spooned an unhealthy amount of sugar into his third cup of tea that morning. The dark circles under his eyes spoke to his late night, but a glance at Malfoy told him the blond git looked as put together as ever.

Malfoy was fastidiously spreading raspberry jam on his toast as he listened to Blaise Zabini. Harry looked up at the staff table and saw with relief that Dumbledore had chosen oatmeal for breakfast.

Ron yawned widely. Hermione said wearily, “For the last time, Malfoy was just being his usual vitriolic self. He’s not trying to murder Dumbledore using toast. Now could we please talk about something else? Have either of you done the essay on animal-to-animal transfiguration for Professor McGonagall? We have a bit of time before our first class, I was thinking we could go to the library and get a head start.”

Ron groaned. “Why don’t I have any friends who are fun and not completely insane?” he asked his blueberry muffin gloomily before biting into it.

That night found Harry striding determinedly to the seventh floor. After a few minutes, Malfoy appeared and Harry came out from the shadowy alcove where he was lurking.

“Merlin’s beard,” yelped Malfoy, hand flying towards his wand. “Oh. Not you again.”

“What did Voldemort tell you to do?” Harry ignored the pained expression that crossed Malfoy’s face at the name. “Are you afraid Dumbledore will find out and stop you?”

Malfoy snorted. “Don’t talk about things you don’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me!” said Harry in frustration.

Malfoy gave him an odd look.

“What?” said Harry aggressively.

“Why didn’t you turn me in?”

“For trying to use the Cruciatus Curse?”

Malfoy nodded, eyes unreadable.

Harry paused. “It didn’t work,” he said slowly. “You didn’t mean it at all. Even I’ve gotten farther with that curse than you have, but with your name, you’d have no chance of escaping a sentence. Plus you’re not a Death Eater, so it’s not too late for you to join our side.”

“Not too late,” repeated Malfoy, so softly Harry barely heard him. “Right.”

The next night, Harry and Ron feverishly wrote their Herbology essays under the disapproving eye of Hermione. They tolerated her reprimands for not starting their work earlier in exchange for her invaluable help. Even so, they didn’t finish the required ten inches on the properties and uses of Alihotsy until a couple hours past midnight.

Harry waited around an hour on the seventh floor before Malfoy stepped out of the Room of Requirement, looking wan and exhausted.

Malfoy immediately glared at Harry, who was sitting on the floor under the tapestry. “I know you live a mundane, mediocre life, but do you really have nothing better to do, Potter?”

“What are you doing in there?” demanded Harry, scrambling to his feet.

“Learning how to samba,” drawled Malfoy. “I’m too shy to show others before I master it.”

Harry was momentarily distracted by the thought of Malfoy and samba dancing. “I’m serious,” he said, scowling at Malfoy. “I’m not leaving you alone until you tell me.”

Malfoy stared at him in alarm. “If you following me around every night constitutes leaving me alone in your book, I don’t even want to know what not leaving me alone entails. How do you even know where I am all the time? I checked myself for tracking spells and unless you’re stalking me under your Invisibility Cloak all day…”

Malfoy looked even more alarmed and eyed Harry suspiciously. Harry hoped Malfoy never found out about how he used Kreacher as a spy for a few weeks.

“You’re only sixteen years old, what could Voldemort” – he ignored a cross look from Malfoy – “possibly trust you with? Is it an initiation to become a Death Eater?”

Malfoy snorted. “After the fiasco last year at the Ministry? The Dark Lord doesn’t trust my family at all.”

“So you’re doing something to gain favor with him,” said Harry. "What is it?"

Malfoy let out a frustrated noise. “What do you want?” he said wildly. “What do you want from me?”

Harry reached out and grabbed Malfoy by the shoulders. Malfoy seemed too stunned by his Muggle approach to react.

“I want Voldemort defeated and the Death Eaters disbanded,” said Harry seriously. “I want the discrimination against Muggle-borns to end. I would very much like it if you and your lot stopped calling people Mudbloods and bullying first-years, but mostly I just want everyone alive and safe at the end of all this.”

Malfoy laughed disbelievingly, but the fight had gone out of him. “Even the ones who have used Dark Magic? Hurt other people without a care in the world?”

“Dark Magic isn’t evil,” said Harry. “And Death Eaters aren’t the only ones who have hurt people. I’ve had enough of people dying around me. This war has to end.”

There was a silence in which Malfoy looked at him steadily and Harry looked back at those bright silver eyes, just inches away from his own, and knew that in one way or another, Draco Malfoy would be the ruin of him. 


	2. Chapter 2

Harry looked at the door with a sense of impending doom. “This is ridiculous. Let’s at least wait until morning. He already hates me, he’s going to kill me if we wake him up right now.”

Draco raise his eyebrows. “You’re the one who said you weren’t leaving me alone until I tell you what’s going on. I’m exhausted and I want nothing more than to sleep for the next twelve hours but I’m not going to bed with you coming along.”

At that, both boys went very red. Draco turned away and took advantage of Harry’s discomfiture to knock loudly.

“Uncle Severus?” called Draco.

Harry barely had time to wonder whether Draco was actually related to their professor (it would explain the blatant favoritism) before the door flew open to reveal Snape, wearing an emerald green bathrobe and matching slippers and pointing his wand at them.

“Draco? Are you in danger? Are you hurt?” Snape noticed Harry standing there and his expression soured considerably. “What is Mr. Potter doing here?”

“I’m sorry, Professor, it’s urgent,” said Draco. “Can we come in? We need to talk.”

If someone had told Harry that he would be drinking Earl Grey with Professor Snape and Draco Malfoy before dawn, he would suspect they were suffering from a severe Wrackspurt infection. And yet here he was, spooning several lumps of sugar into his tea to the distaste of his Slytherin companions.

With one last judgmental sneer at Harry’s tea, Snape cleared his throat and said, “Now. What could have possibly been so important that you knocked on my door at four in the morning?”

Draco gave Harry a look that clearly said, _This is all your fault, you explain_.

Harry nervously gulped his tea and narrowly avoided dropping the cup on the floor. “Uh,” he said, setting the cup down hastily. “Well. You see, um, I saw Malfoy in the bathroom with Moaning Myrtle and…”

“Let’s not waste time on details,” said Draco airily. “Potter has been stalking me, and it’s getting tiresome.”

“I see,” said Snape, whose pained expression was not of one who understood what was going on.

“I know he’s on a mission for Voldemort!” said Harry loudly. “Malfoy’s not a Death Eater yet” – _like you_ , he thought privately – “but if you cared for him at all, you can’t let him join Voldemort’s side.”

“Don’t presume to know how I feel, Potter,” hissed Snape, hand twitching as if he wanted to go for his wand.

Draco straightened in his chair. “Potter’s right. I want to go to Dumbledore,” he said determinedly to Snape.

A muscle jumped in Snape’s jaw. “Draco, come with me.”

The two walked into an adjoining room and closed the door. Snape must have cast a Silencing spell because Harry couldn’t hear a word.

Harry drank another two cups of tea while waiting and could feel the unfortunate combination of no sleep and caffeine taking its toll. He shivered and thought longingly of his wonderfully warm, soft bed less than ten flights of stairs away.

Snape and Draco finally came out of the room, neither looking too happy. Draco looked sullenly defiant, and his silver blond hair was mussed as if he had run his hands through it in frustration. Snape had a vein pulsing in his left temple.

“Mr. Malfoy and I will talk with Dumbledore in the morning,” announced Snape wearily. “Potter, get out of my sight.”

“You will never believe –” Harry began and was instantly cut off by Hermione.

“No!” she said, slamming down her copy of the _Daily Prophet_ and bashing the delivery owl on the beak. “Not again! Do you realize that for the past four days in a row, all you’ve been talking about is Malfoy and what he’s doing all day?”

“There’s only so much time I can listen to you talk about what his different hairstyles mean,” agreed Ron over the indignant hoots. He gave the owl a piece of toast. The owl ruffled its feathers and glared balefully at Hermione before taking flight and clipping her head with its wing.

“No, this is really important,” said Harry and was met with two very unimpressed looks.

He recounted the events of the past night.

“That’s wonderful!” said Hermione, relieved. “Dumbledore will take care of everything.”

“But I need to know what’s going on!” insisted Harry. Dumbledore, Snape, and Draco were not at breakfast, a fact Harry took note of within two minutes of stepping into the Great Hall.

Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance and changed the subject to the news article about the three dementor attacks that week. Harry couldn’t wait for their Defense of the Dark Arts class that afternoon.

But alas, both Snape and Draco were absent. Professor McGonagall began teaching with no further explanation than “Professor Snape is indisposed.” Harry stayed back after the bell rang to ask whether she had any news on Snape or Draco.

“I should think not,” said Professor McGonagall, her mouth thinning dangerously. “After your poor performance in our last Transfiguration class, I would highly advise you to focus on learning how to transform Cauldron Cakes into cabbages instead of chasing after castle gossip.”

Harry walked out of the classroom in a foul mood. He stormed down the corridor but suddenly felt a horrible cold rush all over his body.

“How rude!” cried a voice inside him.

Harry stumbled back in shock to find Moaning Myrtle glaring at him.

“Oh hello,” said Harry unenthusiastically.

Myrtle huffed. “You ignore me when I try to talk to me, then you walk straight through me?” she said indignantly. “How could you? I thought you were better than that!”

“Oh, uh, sorry,” said Harry hastily as Myrtle’s eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t mean to, I was just thinking about something else.”

“You really are like all the other boys,” she said, scowling at Harry as if he were single-handedly responsible for the emergence of misogyny among teenage boys. “Boys never ask why girls are upset. You just care about yourselves.”

Harry sighed. “Are you doing alright?”

“No!” snapped Myrtle. “What did you do to Draco?”

“What? I didn’t do anything! Do you know where he is?” asked Harry eagerly. Perhaps Myrtle had heard something from the other ghosts.

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking you, now would I?” she said.

Harry felt a surge of disappointment. He had half a mind to storm up to Dumbledore’s office and demand an explanation.

“Why would I leave the bathroom when every time I leave, people point and make fun of me?” continued Myrtle irately. “Don’t think I don’t notice. I do. All the students are such bullies. And the other ghosts aren’t much better.”

Harry glanced around, hoping for a distraction to end this conversation, but the corridor was unfortunately empty.

“Draco hasn’t come visit me for three days now!” she wailed. “I miss him, and I know he misses me too. He’s lonely just like me. He _always_ comes to visit me before lunch. Until you came along.”

Myrtle gave Harry a hateful look.

“It’s not my fault!” said Harry defensively. “I don’t know what happened to him either.” He hefted his bag up higher on his shoulder. “Look, let me go talk to Dumbledore about this, okay? He should know.”

“Do you promise to tell me what happened after you find out?” she said.

Harry grimaced. “Yeah sure, okay.”

“I’ll be waiting,” she said forebodingly, sinking slowly down through the floor until she disappeared.

Before Harry arrived at the Headmaster’s office, he was accosted by Ginny who dragged him off to the Gryffindor Quidditch team meeting he had organized and apparently forgotten about. They went over their strategies against Ravenclaw until dinner, after which they had a final practice before their game tomorrow.

The practice went fairly well for everyone except for Harry. He had several narrow misses from Bludgers when his mind wandered to thoughts of a certain blond-haired Slytherin. After the fourth time he nearly ran into a goalpost, Ginny pulled him aside and quietly informed him that unless he got his mind in the game, he would have to answer to her. Fear of Ginny’s wrath drove him to catch the Snitch shortly after and end their practice scrimmage on a happy note.

“What is going on with you?” said Ginny as she helped him pack up the balls. The rest of the team, exhausted but excited for the next day, ambled off toward the baths. Ron had given him a pointed look before he left, and Harry felt betrayed he had left his best friend to the mercy of his younger sister. “Tomorrow is the last game of the season. What could possibly be more important than that right now?”

Harry hesitated, and Ginny rolled her eyes.

“I know it has something to do with Malfoy,” she said.

Harry gaped at her, nearly letting a Bludger go flying back into the air. “What did Ron tell you?” he asked, imagining them discussing Harry’s interest in Draco’s jam preferences and feeling even more betrayed. “Whatever he said, it’s not true.”

Ginny rolled her eyes again, though the effect was lessened by her struggle with the Bludger. “You’re not exactly subtle,” she panted as she wrestled the ball into submission. “You stare at the Slytherin table whenever we eat, and all I hear you, Ron, and Hermione talking about these days is Malfoy. I can put two and two together.”

“I don’t stare,” said Harry, tightening the strap on the Quaffle unnecessarily to avoid looking at Ginny. “And there’s really nothing going on.”

There was a pause, and then, “Oh Merlin, you _like_ him!”

Harry’s jaw fell open. “What?”

“You like Draco Malfoy!” accused Ginny, with a look of horror. “Merlin. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy.”

“What? I do not!” said Harry, feeling very wrong-footed. This was not how he expected the conversation to go.

“You like Malfoy. _Malfoy_ ,” she said, her face contorting in disgust. “Okay. At least we’re not facing Slytherin tomorrow. Okay. But really, out of all people, Malfoy?”

“I do not like Draco!” said Harry loudly, hoping extra volume would bring Ginny out of her delusions.

“Draco?” repeated Ginny faintly. She rubbed her face with her hand, smearing some dirt across her forehead. “Merlin’s pants, I’ve gotta talk to Hermione. If you don’t catch the Snitch tomorrow because you’re lovesick over Malfoy…”

She trailed off, one eye twitching at the thought.

“I’m not lovesick!” said Harry as Ginny walked away towards the castle. “It’s not like that!”

The next morning, Harry did his best to focus lest he be persecuted by his housemates for losing the match (he had no doubt Ginny would spread the word that Harry had been too busy thinking about Draco to catch the Snitch).

He had looked for Draco the previous night, hoping to find him on the seventh floor, but his dot had stayed in the Slytherin dormitories until midnight, when Ron had staged an intervention. He had forcefully wrested the Invisibility Cloak and the Marauders’ Map from Harry and given them to Hermione for safekeeping. Harry had gone to bed with ill grace and dreamed of Draco.

But the dream meant nothing, right? He couldn’t _choose_ what he thought about while unconscious. He had even dreamed about Voldemort before, and Harry certainly did not like the mass murderer. Harry had obviously been distracted by the lunacy Ginny had been spouting after practice. Sure, Draco had really nice hair and he had that little frown he got when he concentrated on something, but –

Ginny punched him in the arm hard as she flew past on her broom. “Harry James Potter, I will kill you!” she hollered at him. “Get the Snitch!”

Suddenly, Harry noticed the excited shouting from the spectators. He looked around wildly and saw Cho diving for a golden speck near the opposite goalposts. He urged his broom to go faster, faster, until his hand closed upon the Snitch a split second before Cho could.

A roar went up from the Gryffindor stands and the team converged upon him, yelling and slapping him on the back and ruffling his hair. Harry vaguely noticed Ginny grabbing Dean Thomas and kissing him, and Ron waving the silver Cup in triumph.

“We won, Harry, we won!” Ron thrust the Cup at him.

Harry raised it over his head to renewed cheers and he looked at the crowd around him until his eyes found Draco Malfoy, whose face held the barest hint of a smile.


	3. Chapter 3

The next few weeks passed in futile attempts to talk to Dumbledore, Snape, or Draco about what was going on. Harry grew more and more frustrated as the three had seemingly disappeared from Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall was covering all of the Defense of the Dark Arts classes, much to the delight of his Gryffindor classmates, though the bags under her eyes suggested she had more than enough to deal with at the moment.

Harry was beginning to wonder whether he had imagined seeing Draco at the Quidditch match. His moping drew suspicious glances from Hermione and Ginny, no matter how often he insisted they had the wrong idea. He ended up visiting Moaning Myrtle at her second-floor bathroom a few times to escape their knowing looks.

As Harry walked out of the girls’ bathroom on one such visit, he ran into Jimmy Peakes.

“This is for you,” said Jimmy, handing him a scroll of parchment. “So, uh, what were you doing in there?”

Harry thanked him, mumbled something about losing his way, and quickly walked away to avoid any follow-up questions. His heart leaped when he found Dumbledore’s scrawl upon the parchment.

On his way up to the Headmaster’s office as instructed, he passed by a rather unsteady Professor Trelawney on the seventh floor. She stumbled and crashed to the floor, and Harry heard the crack of broken glass.

Harry rushed over but Professor Trelawney was already on her feet again. She tilted to the side, and Harry hastily took her arm.

“Professor, are you alright?” asked Harry, carefully stepping around what looked like the remains of a sherry bottle.

She peered at him through her large glasses, which magnified her eyes to an uncomfortable degree and made Harry feel like an insect under a microscope.

“Harry Potter? Is that you?” she said, reaching out to grab his arm and missing by about a foot. A couple more sherry bottles tumbled out of her shawl, and she kicked them to the side of the hallway. “I was just thinking about how wonderful it was having you in class before. A terrible Seer of course, but such an interesting Object to See…”

Harry thought back to the years of tea dregs, crystal balls, and dream diaries collectively agreeing upon his imminent and violent demise.

“Hmm,” he said noncommittally.

“What a shame you failed your O.W.L.! But alas, it was just as I foretold,” she said, waving her hands mystically and almost falling into the wall. “Many people doubt my abilities, though I have never once been incorrect. Dumbledore knows this, he understood my gift the very first time we met at the Hog’s Head for my interview.”

Harry tensed, wondering whether Professor Trelawney remembered anything about the infamous prophecy she had made that night.

“Just like that Severus Snape!”

Harry gave a start. “Professor Snape?”

“Yes, he and that barman were at the door, spying on my interview! Not that it was particularly surprising, I am quite well known within certain circles, undoubtedly they were hoping for an autograph from such an esteemed Seer. Dumbledore gave me the job as soon as they were gone, and I am sure he did not know of my celebrity status before they came along so perhaps it was for the best. You see, you’re not the only one who struggles with the burden of fame, Harry – Harry?” She looked down at Harry’s painfully tight grip on her arm.

Harry numbly let go of Professor Trelawney, who immediately swayed backwards a little before righting herself with a hand on the wall. He paid her no attention. His heart was pounding very fast, as he realized several things at once.

Snape was the one who told Voldemort about the prophecy all those years ago, and the reason Harry grew up an unloved orphan with a lightning bolt scar. Snape was the one responsible for his parents’ deaths, one of whom had been his childhood best friend.

Snape was the one whom Draco had confided in his plan to renounce Voldemort.

“I have to talk to Dumbledore,” said Harry blankly.

He ignored Professor Trelawney’s protests and found himself past the gargoyle, up the spiral staircase, and outside the Headmaster’s door with barely any recollection of how he got there. He entered the office without knocking.

“Harry, there you are!” said Dumbledore, gathering up his black cloak off his chair. “Are you ready to go?”

“Go?” said Harry. He stared at Dumbledore for what felt like a few minutes before saying slowly, “Professor, where is Draco?”

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles. “Do not worry, Mr. Malfoy is safe with his family and Professor Snape.”

“Snape?” It came out louder than Harry intended it to. “Draco’s with Snape?”

“Yes, Professor Snape will help protect them from Voldemort and his Death Eaters. They are undoubtedly looking for the Malfoys already,” said Dumbledore, his face sobering.

“Protect? You really think Snape will _protect_ them?” snarled Harry, hands balling into fists. “Even after he SOLD OUT MY MUM AND DAD?”

Dumbledore exhaled, and walked over to Fawkes, who looked rather upset by the turn of events. “Harry,” said Dumbledore as he gently patted the phoenix on his head.

“You told me over and over to trust him! That he’s on our side! He was friends with my mum before, I saw, and he still sold her out!”

“Harry,” said Dumbledore, a little more firmly. There were some gasps and mutters and disapproving looks from the portraits, but Harry was still too incensed to stop.

“Snape’s a Death Eater, through and through! He doesn’t care what happens as long as he serves his precious Dark Lord! What do you think will happen the instant Voldemort demands he hand over the Malfoys, huh? What do you think’s gonna happen to Draco?”

Unbidden, the memory of Cedric Diggory, dead in the graveyard from the Killing Curse, came to mind. Harry pictured Draco’s corpse crumpled on the ground, or Draco writhing in excruciating pain under the Cruciatus Curse like Neville last year at the Department of Mysteries. He thought he might vomit.

“Harry!” Fawkes let out a long, mournful note, and Harry noticed that for the first time, Dumbledore’s voice held a hint of anger.

“I promised Draco and his family my help should they renounce Voldemort,” said Dumbledore sternly. “As Headmaster, the safety of my students are of the utmost importance to me. Even if Draco isn’t at Hogwarts at the moment, he is still a student of this school.”

“Where is he?” said Harry, distracted.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. “All you need to know is he’s safe,” he said. “The fewer people who know where the Malfoys are hiding, the better. I trust Professor Snape to keep the Death Eaters away from them.”

At those words, Harry’s temper flared up again. “How can you be sure Snape’s on our side?” he demanded, now pacing back and forth in a concerted effort to burn off his restless anger. “Voldemort trusts Snape as much as you do, but one of you has to be wrong. How are you so sure you’re right? This is Draco’s _life_ we’re talking about!”

There was a ringing silence. Harry took some deep breaths and unclenched his hands with great difficulty. Fawkes chirped and hesitantly poked his head out from under his wing, where he had been hiding from the noise.

Dumbledore gave him a piercing look. “Professor Snape has made terrible mistakes in the past, but he is not without a heart,” said Dumbledore evenly. There was no anger or judgment in his voice, but Harry felt inexplicably ashamed. “He did not hear the entire prophecy then, and did not know that Voldemort would go after you and your parents. At the time, he was still a Death Eater but after your parents died…”

“You mean, after my mum died,” retorted Harry. “He hated my dad.”

Dumbledore inclined his head. “That may be, but it doesn’t detract from the overwhelming remorse he felt after learning what happened. Professor Snape will not let anything happen to Draco, even at the risk of his own life.”

“Why would Snape care so much about Draco? Draco called him ‘Uncle Severus’ before, but they’re not related, are they?”

“Their relationship is not for me to disclose, but Professor Snape cares about Draco very much. I would wager he sees Draco as good as his own son,” said Dumbledore thoughtfully. “But enough on the Malfoys. Are you still interested in hunting a Horcrux?”

The following several hours were some of the worst Harry had ever experienced in his life. He had grabbed his Invisibility Cloak, briefly told Ron and Hermione where he was going, and rushed back to the Headmaster’s office.

From there, they walked to Hogsmeade and Apparated and suddenly, there were ocean waves under a crescent moon and a harsh wind heavy with salt. They swam through the dark water until they reached the foot of the cliff where the passage required a payment of blood willingly shed, and an invisible boat awaited to take them across the lake.

Harry forced the potion down Dumbledore’s throat even as his headmaster screamed and cried and begged for him to stop. An army of Inferi had crawled out of the hidden depths and silently lurched towards them, grey hands reaching to drag them beneath the surface and join their ranks. Even as Harry had fought them, he couldn’t help but notice that some of them were just children, not even Hogwarts age.

They had arrived back in Hogsmeade, but Dumbledore was so weak Harry could barely keep them both standing. They collapsed upon the side of the street for a few minutes, dripping and freezing, but just thankful to be alive and in possession of the golden locket.

Harry looked up at the starry night, but couldn’t find Draco’s constellation.

Instead, he found something much more alarming.

“Professor! Sir, look!”

Dumbledore followed Harry’s outstretched hand and cast his gaze skyward, where a glowing Dark Mark twisted around the Astronomy Tower.

Harry’s thoughts immediately went to Draco, and his blood ran cold. Had the Death Eaters caught up with the Malfoys already, and left Draco’s body as an example to his fellow classmates? Or perhaps it was Ron or Hermione or Ginny, caught by the wrong people at the wrong time.

Madam Rosmerta burst out of the Three Broomsticks in her nightgown, clutching her wand in a tight grip. “Albus? Is that you? Are you hurt?”

“Rosmerta,” said Dumbledore, and coughed weakly. “Help me up. Do you have” – Dumbledore staggered, his face pallid with sweat, and Harry and Rosmerta reached out to steady him – “I’m fine, I’m fine, we must go at once. Rosmerta, do you have brooms?”

Dumbledore waved aside her concerned protests, and Harry Summoned the brooms from behind the bar. They mounted their brooms and flew off for Hogwarts, leaving Rosmerta, who was clearly terrified, to alert the Aurors.

When they landed on the Astronomy Tower, Dumbledore instructed Harry to put on his Invisibility Cloak. He had barely covered himself when a barrage of spells came at them. Harry was hit by a full Body-Bind before he could react and stiffly fell against the wall. Dumbledore had defended himself, but Harry could see the effort it had taken him.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the great Dumbledore himself,” growled a deep voice.

“Fenrir Greyback,” said Dumbledore levelly, though a flicker of disgust crossed his face. “So nice of you to come visit Hogwarts. And is that Alecto? It’s been a while since your time here.”

A large hulking man came into view. He had wild yellow eyes and a tangle of grey hair matted with what was unmistakably fresh blood. His jagged nails were so long they resembled claws. He bared his long teeth in a parody of a smile.

“I never knew school could be this fun,” said Greyback, licking a trail of blood off his finger. “So much delicious untouched flesh, all in one place…”

A woman with a stocky build and sloped shoulders aimed her wand straight between Dumbledore’s eyes. “Where have you hidden the blood traitors? The Dark Lord would like a word with them.”

“The Malfoys are unfortunately unavailable at the time,” said Dumbledore calmly, though he leaned against the wall as if he no longer had strength to stand. “Perhaps if you send a message next time and notify me of your plans.”

Greyback stepped forward eagerly. “ _Perhaps_ ,” he mocked, flexing his hands, “you could be persuaded to tell us what you know.”

Harry struggled hard against the curse, but he couldn’t speak or move.

The sound of footsteps pounding up the stairs caused them to look towards the door as one. Harry hoped desperately for one of the professors to show up. Dumbledore would surely be able to defeat the two Death Eaters with the help of Professor McGonagall or Professor Flitwick.

It was Professor Snape.

“Where have you been?” demanded Alecto, rounding on Snape angrily. “The Dark Lord has been asking for you for several days now. You better have a good explanation for him.”

“I’ve been busy,” said Snape shortly. He glanced at Alecto and Greyback, then at Dumbledore, and then his eyes seemed to flick towards where Harry was propped up against the wall, invisible.

“Busy?” shrieked Alecto. She opened her mouth as if to continue her tirade but Snape quelled her with a look.

Greyback still hadn’t taken his eyes off of Dumbledore. “We’re to take the Malfoys to him, dead or alive. Though his Lordship didn’t say we couldn’t play with them before handing them over.”

Harry inwardly shuddered at the hunger in Greyback’s hoarse voice.

Snape said nothing, but a muscle in his jaw jumped. He and Dumbledore stared at each other for a long moment. Snape looked away first, his mouth curving downward into a sneer.

“I’ll get him to talk,” said Greyback, smiling as he reached towards Dumbledore.

With more strength than Harry thought possible, Dumbledore grabbed onto Greyback with both arms and launched them over the ramparts. Alecto screeched and ran towards the wall. Snape silently Stunned her from behind, and she fell to the ground in an unconscious lump.

Snape grabbed her wand and unceremoniously threw it over the side of the castle. He then walked over to Harry and felt around until he pulled the Invisibility Cloak off of him. Harry’s eyes were wide, a scream locked behind his unmoving teeth.

Suddenly, a crash came from the staircase and Snape swore violently. He looked down at Harry, and his furious expression altered to one of resignation.

“You will never cease to make my life that much more difficult, will you Mr. Potter?” said Snape despairingly, and pointed his wand at Harry’s face. “ _Stupefy._ ”


End file.
